Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1)
Page 18
Hannah sighed. The news was the one dark spot in her day. Now that she had found her love, she didn’t like to hear of others being denied the pleasure. She glanced at David and saw by his tender smile that he was thinking the same thing.
“But you must have a Season,” Priscilla protested. “Everyone will remark if you do not.”
“You must dance at Almack’s,” Daphne put in worshipfully.
“You must partake of the midnight supper at the ball Priscilla has been planning for ages,” Ariadne put in with raptured tones.
Lady Emily sighed. “That ball may not come off, you know. Priscilla doesn’t even have a chaperone for the Season, now that Lady Brentfield is unavailable.”
Priscilla sobered immediately, and Hannah opened her mouth to turn the conversation onto a happier subject.
“I have it!” Daphne proclaimed. “Miss Alexander can be Priscilla’s chaperone! She could be ours as well!”
Hannah stared at her in horror. “No! Absolutely not!”
“Oh, please, Miss Alexander?” Ariadne pleaded. “My mother is so strict. We’ll never meet anyone interesting!”
“I don’t have any social connections,” Hannah reminded them, gazing at David in appeal. He merely grinned at her and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t even know how to advise you!”
“But you’ll be the Countess of Brentfield!” Priscilla protested. “You’ll be welcomed everywhere! I don’t care what my aunt said; a countess with a talent for painting and an earl who’s a Yank will be all the rage! Everyone will want to meet you. It would be perfect!”
“It will be impossible!” Hannah maintained.
“It could be fun,” David put in with a chuckle. “I’ve been waiting for Asheram to complete the paperwork for the confirmation of my title. I’ll be called to London sooner or later for the king’s approval. Besides, I understand I have a lot to learn about Society. Who could ask for more congenial teachers?”
The girls beamed at him.
Hannah stared. “David Tenant,” she started.
He grinned at her. “We won’t go right away, if that’s what’s worrying you. I plan a long, extended honeymoon.”
Hannah blushed.
“But you can’t wait too long, my lord,” Daphne put in. “As you said, the Season starts right after Easter.”
“I’ll consider it,” David replied, drawing Hannah across the coach to sit beside him. “But first, I have other things to tend to. Miss Alexander will be unavailable for some time. She has a dalliance to complete.”
“And this time,” Hannah added, smiling into his eyes, “the only danger will be in stopping too soon.”
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing Secrets and Sensibilities. If you enjoyed David and Hannah’s story, there are several things you could do now:
Sign up for a free e-mail alert with exclusive bonus content so you’ll be the first to know whenever a new book is out.
Connect with me on Facebook or Goodreads.
Post a review on a bookseller site or Goodreads to help other readers find the book.
Discover what other books I have available at my website.
Read more about our intrepid sleuth, Lady Emily Southwell. She and her friends Priscilla Tate and Daphne and Ariadne Courdebas have other adventures ahead, beginning with their upcoming Season in London. Turn the page for a sneak peek of Book 2 of the Lady Emily Capers, Art and Artifice, available now.
Blessings!
Regina Scott
Sneak Peek at Art and Artifice, Book 2 in the Lady Emily Capers by Regina Scott
Lady Emily Southwell stopped a few feet from James Cropper. Having happily left her hateful betrothed Lord Robert and his cryptic remarks at his pretentious carriage, she could not help noticing the contrast between the two men. Lord Robert had been completely confident both in himself and all he planned, his prestige as loud as if he shouted it from the rooftops. James was quieter, his brown coat and trousers less showy, but the tall ceilinged entry hall felt smaller with him in it.
And she would never forget that smile. It seemed to promise her something quite grand if she’d just forget herself and . . . do what?
“I would prefer that you explain your presence here,” she told him. “I know it must have something to do with Lord Robert.”
He shrugged. “If it is, I couldn’t say, my lady.”
Emily puffed out a sigh. “If you tell me that it is a matter between gentlemen I will likely scream.”
“Can’t have that now, can we?” he said, smile inching higher. “But as you seem to expect me to behave in my official role as an officer of the court, perhaps I should ask you whether you’ve been behaving since we last met.”
He could be the most vexing man! Did he think her an infant that he must watch over her? Her father the Duke of Emerson certainly trusted her more than that.
“I assure you,” Emily replied with a toss of her curls nearly as good as one of her friend Priscilla’s, “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, aye.” She could hear the amusement in his drawl. “You and your three friends were doing quite well when we met on Bond Street the other day.”
He would bring that up. His rescue still rankled. She made herself gaze at the mirror on the far wall rather that at his smug smile. “I already thanked you for that service, sir.”
“Indeed you did, though rather grudgingly, I thought.” In the mirror, she saw him glance at the footman, standing against the pale blue wall as straight as a statue in his black livery. As if deciding the servant posed no problem, James took a step closer as well. The scent of sandalwood drifted up, whispering of warm summer nights in exotic places. Despite herself, Emily turned her gaze to his, blinking as she tried to reconcile the cologne with the man who wore it.
“Tell me you heeded my warning,” James murmured, gaze on hers. “You’ve stayed away from the worst parts of London, haven’t you?”
Those gray eyes were fathomless, like looking up into the pale morning sky on a spring day. “Yes,” she allowed. “Though I’d like to think I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“Oh, no,” he replied, smile widening once more. “You’ve obviously outgrown the nursery.”
She wished she had a fan. Priscilla said it was best used to rap insolent fellows across the knuckles. Emily would have preferred to wave it frantically in front of her heated face.
As if he sensed her discomfort, he straightened away from her. “And what has your fiancé been up to recently?”
The question should have been casual, simply polite conversation, but Emily heard more behind it. He wasn’t sure what Lord Robert was about. Well, neither was she. She did think, however, that James sounded just the wee bit vexed that she might have spent time with his quarry.
“I just returned from an outing with him,” she admitted. “I mentioned your name. He didn’t seem pleased to have made your acquaintance.”
“No doubt,” he said. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”
“Why?” she demanded. “You both are so sure I should avoid the other, yet neither of you will explain.”
“Perhaps it’s not our place to tell,” he said, but his gaze drifted upward, as if the chandelier was suddenly much more fascinating.
Emily threw up her hands. “Can you say nothing of any use to me?”
“Only that you look very fetching in that gray gown.”
The gown felt entirely too warm and tight. She shook her finger at him, forcing his gaze back down again. “Charm will not save you, sir. I am immune to it. I swear that you and Lord Robert are a pair of coxcombs, entirely too full of yourselves to listen.”
He laughed, a deep chuckle she was certain she’d find warming under other circumstances. “Well, I’ve been accused of that often enough.” He touched two fingers to his brow. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I say my goodbyes, then.”
Perhaps it was her outing with Lord Robert still t
roubling her, perhaps she found Mr. Cropper’s company as invigorating as it was frustrating, perhaps she was merely being whimsical, but she didn’t want him to walk out the door. “Tell me something before you go.”
He eyed her as if not trusting the direction of her thoughts. “What would that be?”
She imitated the salute he’d given her. “Why do you do this?”
He glanced down at his hand as if surprised she’d noticed. “It’s an Irish gesture of respect.”
“Are you Irish, Mr. Cropper?”
He looked up and grinned. “Sure-n I learnt the movement at me mother’s knee, yer laidyship. Me mam is right proud of her Jamie, she is. Course the gesture gets a bit messy if I’ve been eat-n bread and jam. Can’t figure how to keep them strawberries out of me hair.”
Emily couldn’t help her laugh. “You’d better stick with roasted chestnuts then. You could hide any sign of them quite nicely.”
“So long as they didn’t singe me scalp.”
“Oh, you needn’t go so deep,” she assured him. “You could put several of them right here, and no one would know.” She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she reached up to touch the wave of hair over his forehead. The chestnut curl was warm and silky.
The laughter faded from his eyes to be replaced by an intensity that took her breath away. Emily let her hand fall even as she heard the unmistakable sound of her butler Warburton’s cough from the sitting room door beside her.
“And you,” Jamie murmured softly, finger coming up to caress the curls beside her ear, “you’d best not hide anything in that silk. It would slide right through.”
Emily couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Warburton seemed to have developed consumption, he coughed so hard.
Jamie leaned closer, and for an insane moment she thought he intended to kiss her. Even more insane was her reaction. She closed her eyes and wished Warburton to perdition.
“You’re a fine woman, Lady Emily Southwell,” Jamie murmured, his breath a caress against her cheek. “You should find yourself a fine man for a husband.”
Something brushed against her temple, so soft she feared she had imagined it. It sent a tremor through her nonetheless. She opened her eyes, but Jamie was already striding for the door, which the footman was holding wide for him, eyes enormous.
“Wait!” She took a step after him, to do what, she wasn’t sure.
Jamie turned, and his smile was sad. “There’s not much else can be said between us, my dear. But if you need me, you have only to look.” He gave her his salute one last time and left.
*
Buy now to keep reading.
About the Author
Regina Scott started writing novels in the third grade. Thankfully for literature as we know it, she didn’t actually sell her first novel until she learned a bit more about writing. Since her first book was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages including Dutch, German, Italian, and Portuguese. She now has over two dozen published works of warm, witty romance.
She and her husband of more than twenty-five years reside in the Puget Sound area of Washington State with their overactive Irish terrier. Regina Scott has dressed as a Regency dandy, driven four-in-hand, learned to fence, and sailed on a tall ship, all in the name of research, of course. Learn more about her at her website.